


One More Song

by RisingPhoenix761



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bethyl Smut Week, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 14:03:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16220597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingPhoenix761/pseuds/RisingPhoenix761
Summary: The war is over and peace has been a long time coming, and it shows up with someone Daryl thought he'd never see again.





	One More Song

**Author's Note:**

> The last prompt is "bittersweet" and it's fitting. I'm sad! It's over! This week has been quite a ride and I'm not ready to let these two go!

 Almost everyone at Hilltop was outside in the sunshine, mostly hard at work but if someone stopped to take a breath and enjoy the day, nobody cared. Daryl was one of the mostly's. There was too much to do, more than enough rebuilding to take care of now that the war was over, and maybe then, _maybe_ , he'd take a breath.

Someone called out to him and he looked up from his work to see Aaron approaching. He'd been looking a little less haggard and careworn in the past weeks, but the grief and loss was still hiding in his face; having someone you loved so much snatched away from you so suddenly left wounds that never seemed to stop bleeding.

Daryl ought to know.

"Daryl," Aaron called out again, waving him over. He'd been out again, looking for more people, and while Daryl had reservations about bringing more into the community, he wasn't holding it against anybody. People still needed shelter and safety, and nobody should be denied that because he felt weird about it. That was his problem, nobody else's.

He dusted his hands off and started walking; yep, more people, an older woman and a kid that looked teenaged, and another young woman. "Back already?" he asked, lifting his voice over the noise around them.

"Thought I'd better make it quick as I could," Aaron replied. "Sounds like these three have been on the road for a pretty long time."

Daryl nodded, still getting closer. The older woman and the kid looked like they might be mother and son, looking around them warily, and the other woman stared down at the ground, avoiding anyone's eye. "Maggie's around," he said. "Think I'll find her for you, she can handle them."

"Of course," Aaron agreed. "I think some food as soon as possible, then we'll see about getting cleaned up..."

Daryl stopped listening. He had gotten close enough to get a good look at the new arrivals, and when his eyes fell on the young woman he couldn't look away again. He couldn't hear any of the noise around him. He couldn't do anything at all but stare, hardly able to believe his eyes.

Her hair was short, much shorter than he was used to, there was a sober, guarded look in her eyes, and there was a scar on her left temple. But it was the same face...

He wasn't aware of moving, one moment he was standing there and staring and the next he'd rushed forward and thrown his arms around her, holding onto her and nowhere close to letting go.

"Daryl? _Daryl?_ "

He glanced up at Aaron, standing on the sidelines looking confused as hell. He struggled for words for several long moments before finally saying, "Get Maggie. Now!"

Aaron stood gaping for a second, then nodded without a word and hurried away.

Daryl just couldn't let go of her, pressing her close and holding tight before taking her face in his hands and kissing her on the forehead, only to put his arms around her again. He didn't know which was stronger, his shock or his joy. "Beth," he said, whispering at first. "Beth..."

_"_ _Beth!"_

Maggie's cry echoed across the field to them and he looked up to see her sprinting towards them, skidding to a stop beside them, and bad as he didn't want to, he stepped back so she could embrace her little sister. She sobbed aloud, touching her face and running her hands through the short blonde hair, and she was smiling but she still couldn't stop crying, and after a moment Beth was crying too, tears pouring down her face.

Daryl just couldn't look away from her. After trying to live with the thought of never seeing her again, the shock of her sudden appearance was overwhelming. He could only hold out another ten seconds before he had his arms around both of them, feeling them shake with the force of their crying, and how could happiness feel like he was falling apart?

"Beth," Maggie cried, getting the words out between sobs, "Beth...oh my God...Beth, how--how did you..."

Beth cried even harder, clutching at both of them before sobbing, "Why did you leave me?"

* * *

 

The next few days were a surreal haze of reunions and recountings. There was no doubting their group, diminished as it was, was grateful--not to mention astounded--to have Beth back among them, but so much was different. Noah and Tyreese were gone, along with Glenn, Sasha, Carl, and Abraham. Those of the group that survived, didn't come out of the war the same. Judith didn't even recognize Beth anymore, a fact Daryl had been sure would come as a hard blow.

And yet, it didn't. If they were different, then so was Beth. Grady Memorial had left a mark on her, not just the scar from the bullet that should have killed her. She told them everything about waking up after Dr. Steven's crude surgery with only names in her memory, not one of them her own, or holding any kind of meaning for her. She spent days slipping in and out of consciousness after the initial coma, dazed and disoriented as she healed. Her time at the hospital before she was shot came back first and for the longest time, she couldn't make her memory of that day in the corridor make sense. The officers were easily recalled, but the intruders, rough looking people all armed to the teeth with weapons in plain view...it took forever to remember where they fit into her mind. Her group. The people she belonged with.

The people who left her behind.

She said it so dispassionately that at first it was impossible to tell what she felt about it, and it was only after she had told the story that she began to make apparent that she hated being abandoned and was nowhere near ready to forgive them. She hardly spoke to any of them and went to great lengths to avoid them. A few people speculated that head injuries were tricky and the trauma to her brain might have affected her personality, but that sounded like straight up bullshit to Daryl. She was perfectly fine around Aaron, Jesus, Enid, Morgan, Ezekiel, Henry, Tara, Rosita, Eugene, pretty much everyone that hadn't been with her since the farm and the prison. Her family. The people who should have been there when she needed them the most.

Daryl wasn't surprised when Jesus took it upon himself to keep an eye on her. That sneaky bastard had a way of doing exactly what needed to be done, particularly for the lost lambs of the fold. Daryl watched them around the Hilltop, her trying to adapt and him being helpful in a way only a guy called Jesus could be. And Daryl would have loved to know what the hell they were always talking about that had them so serious right up until he did something to make her smile or laugh, but when asked he would only ever give that cryptic little grin and say, "Trust me."

Which was aggravating as all hell.

It was also no surprise to notice the one who seemed to take Beth's distance the hardest was Maggie. Neither she nor Beth had ever really gotten the chance to mourn Hershel and it wasn't too long ago that she lost Glenn as well, and she should have been happy to have her sister back, but it hurt to watch her reach out again and again only to be rejected at every turning. Daryl watched the knife sink in a little deeper every day, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

For his part, he wasn't ready to take that pain on himself. It drove him crazy to have her so close but keep herself so far away, but it was easier by far than to try to bridge the distance only to have her widen it.

Why could he help rebuild their community, but not salvage his relationship with one of the most important people in his life?

* * *

 

"Maggie, Daryl, can I talk to you?"

Both of them looked up at Jesus's approach. It was several weeks since Aaron brought Beth to Hilltop and she still refused contact with any of her family. The frustration and sadness that was all too visible on Maggie's face was the same Daryl felt rolling around in his head, and it was a relief for someone who'd had Beth's ear the past weeks finally ready to talk.

Maggie glanced over to where her little sister was at work among the others; she had managed to find her place among the rest with no trouble. "How is she?"

"She's adjusting," was the reply. "It sounds like she's been through a lot." He paused, then added with a little more emphasis, "A _lot_."

"What's she told you?" Daryl asked.

"Nothing at first, but a little more here and there. Enough to piece it together. All of you were from Georgia, right?"

Daryl and Maggie nodded.

"And you had two places before heading north?"

Nods.

Jesus looked to Beth and stood watching her for a moment before continuing. "That hospital she came from, it sounds...terrible. Not too different from what the Saviors were doing. Survivors were held against their will, martial law was the order of things, those in power either let it corrupt them or found an outlet for whatever corruption already existed. The woman in charge wasn't nearly as in control as she thought."

Old news to Daryl. He remembered the tense, desperate look in that woman's eyes as they were making the exchange, her two cops for Carol and Beth. Whatever she had in that hospital was about to fall apart. He wouldn't have concerned himself with her under different circumstances, if not for Beth...

Maggie hesitated, then asked, "Did she...did she say anything else? About that place?"

Jesus seemed to consider his words before answering, "There's a few things she won't talk about. Things she saw, things she did..."

"Did something happen to her?" Daryl asked sharply.

"I don't know. That's for someone who knows her better to find out."

"But how?" Maggie urged. "She won't talk, she won't listen, and I don't know what else to do, Paul."

He sighed and shifted from one foot to the other. "She was kidnapped, held hostage, shot in the head, and woke up from a coma to find her family had left her for dead."

"No! That's not what we--"

"That's all she knows. She was abandoned by everyone she loved in a place where she had suffered. And whatever she went through on the road, she did it alone. I imagine that if I was in her place, I might feel angry at what happened to me, maybe angry enough to lash out at anybody I thought was responsible."

Daryl had worked that out for himself. Might have even done the same thing. Hell, he already had. It wasn't too long ago he'd do it without even recognizing it.

Maggie was brushing at tears, trying to hold her voice steady. "So, what should I do? I just want my sister back..."

"And I think she wants hers. She knows you've lost more people, she knows what you've had to survive, and I think...I think there's more pain than anger there. Find a way past one and help heal the other, and I think you'll be okay." He gave Daryl that look, the one that always seemed to know too damn much. "All of you."

He didn't respond, looking over at her again. As far as any of these people knew, she was already okay, settling into a new life among new people, trying to start over. But he had yet to see that spark again, the one that kept him going when it was just the two of them in the wilderness, surviving against the odds. She had adjusted, adapted, but that was it. The light was gone. The hope was gone.

Maggie bit her lip and nodded. "I'm gonna try again."

"She might not come around right away," Jesus warned her, "but don't let that stop you. Better that it takes time than to give up without trying."

Daryl glared at him but he didn't look the least bit ruffled. Smart ass son of a bitch. He shrugged and gave Maggie a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, then walked away.

* * *

 

It took about three days for Maggie to reconcile with her sister. It might have taken less time if she didn't have the myriad responsibilities that came with leadership, but as it was, she stuck to Beth like paper on glue. Watching from a distance, Daryl saw how it played out between them, Beth's cold shoulder and Maggie's persistence, Beth growing increasingly irritated and Maggie digging in her heels, until finally they exploded into a shouting match, screaming and raging at each other while a dozen onlookers stood on the sidelines before they retreated into Maggie's office. The argument continued and their raised voices could be heard through the closed doors for what seemed like hours before they grew quiet again, and it was hours after that before they emerged again. They both had been crying, but it was finally clear by the way they embraced each other that they had finally made their peace.

Daryl was relieved for both their sakes, but he still couldn't follow their lead. When she first appeared among them, he couldn't tear his eyes away from Beth, shocked and amazed to see her again. As time went on, however, he couldn't look at her without seeing how he'd failed her. He couldn't stop her from being taken. He couldn't save her when Dawn shot her. Even after, by some goddamn miracle, that doctor at Grady saved her life, she'd been on life support because he, Daryl, couldn't be there for her. And after all that, he left her behind.

How the fuck could he face her after that?

He felt her watching him now, anytime they were in sight of each other, and he did everything he could to avoid her eye. There were a few times he was almost convinced she was trying to reach out to him, taking the first step herself, but he always hurried away before she had her chance.

It was getting cold again one night as he was heading inside after a long day. Everybody was winding down for the night, dividing off towards their respective quarters, and he did the same, up the stairs and down the hall...

He paused. There was music coming from one of the rooms, the soft strains of a guitar echoing quietly through the walls.

_Beth_.

Turning toward the sound, his feet moving whether or not he wanted them to, he passed several doors until he reached one that stood slightly ajar and leaned against the wall outside it, listening to the sweetest voice in the world singing to herself.

_I met a woman_

_She had a mouth like yours, she knew your life_

_She knew your devils and your deeds and she said_

_"Go to him_

_stay with him if you can_

_But be prepared to bleed"_

He closed his eyes, letting her voice wash over him. How many times had he heard her singing in his head, whether he was alone and in silence or surrounded by people and he couldn't even hear himself think? How many times had her voice tortured him, and how many times had it been one of the only things to save him? His heart had broken and his humanity been spared by the sound of that voice, and to hear it again and know this time, its owner was just on the other side of the wall lifted him out of his shame and regret.

_Oh but you are in my blood you're my holy wine_

_You're so bitter_

_bitter and so sweet oh_

_I could drink a case of you darling_

_Still I'd be on my feet_

_I would still be on my feet_

The last chord faded and he opened his eyes again, gathering his courage before he turned and knocked on the door. "Beth?" He waited a second before pushing the door open a little wider.

She was sitting on her bed, guitar perched on her leg as she sat facing the window, watching the moon rise. She looked up at him, and he wished he could read her expression but she was neutral as she met his eyes. "Can I come in?" he asked.

She nodded and he stepped inside the room. "Mind if I close the door?"

She shook her head.

He pulled it shut and stood there silently, unsure where to start. His eyes went to the guitar, varnish fading around the edges and the wood worn down to grooves near the hole. It was still beautiful, in the way damaged things sometimes were. "That's a nice guitar," he said.

"Paul gave it to me," she said. "It's a little banged up, but it still plays all right."

He nodded. "Sounds real good, Beth."

She looked up at him for a moment before lowering her eyes again. "Thanks, Daryl."

He fell silent, gazing at the scar on her forehead. That was one of many sights that turned up regularly in his nightmares, that spray of blood in the air as she collapsed to the floor and the pool that gathered beneath her body. He still woke up sometimes with the feeling of her weight in his arms and for someone so small, she was so heavy... He swallowed hard, forcing back the lump in his throat and blinking away the hot prickling in his eyes. "I, uh, been meaning to talk to you..."

"I know," she said quietly, running her fingers along the strings. "I haven't--haven't made it easy on any of you, and I'm sorry for that."

"Stop that. You ain't got nothing to be sorry for."

She brushed her thumb across a couple strings, just enough to produce a faint sound. "Maggie told me what's been going on," she said, still not looking at him. "I know what you tried to do for Noah."

He nodded, but with her head cast down she couldn't see, so he added, "That's why we left Georgia. Figured it's what--what you'd want..."

She nodded, plucking softly at the guitar. "She said that walkers...she said they got him..."

"Yeah. Glenn was with him."

Her fingers stopped moving on the strings. "She told me what happened to him." Her voice was so quiet he could barely catch the words, but he didn't miss the way they trembled.

He couldn't answer her, bowing his head to stare sightlessly at the floor.

"And she told me--" The words were cut short by a sob she tried to quiet. "She told me what happened to you."

"Beth..." Hard as he tried, he couldn't help the tears filling his eyes.

"Daryl, I'm so sorry..." There was a soft rustle as she got to her feet and rushed towards him, flinging her arms around him and crying against his shoulder.

He broke down with her, his knees giving out and both of them crumpling on the floor. He couldn't tell who was crying harder, but both of them were shaking so violently it was a wonder they didn't break apart, but she was holding on too tightly. "I'm sorry, Daryl," she cried, "I didn't know...I was so...so mad at you..."

She had no reason to apologize but he couldn't get the words out. He held her to his chest, burying his fingers in her hair and pressing his lips to the top of her head, her temple, her cheek, and she turned her face to his, meeting him halfway and kissing him on the lips.

Everything that had happened since Atlanta had come flooding out, and he hadn't been aiming for her mouth even in his outburst, but the feel and the taste of her anchored him to her, even more so than her voice in his ears or her arms clinging to him. He wanted to kiss her back but was too unsure to do anything but keep holding onto her and wait for them both to catch their breath.

The tears stopped but they didn't move. She leaned with her forehead pressed against his, and he ran his fingers through her hair, seizing on such a minor detail to keep grounding himself. "So short," he said.

"The surgery," she replied, hiccupping. "I know it's--it's not--smart to keep it that long, but...I hate it so short..."

"Makes you look badass."

"Daryl..." She reached up and fiddled with a strand of his hair; it was just as long, if not longer, than hers. "I look like you!"

He managed a shaky smile. "Yeah. Badass."

She giggled, then sighed. "I forgot a lot of things for awhile," she said. "I forgot _you_. But I didn't forget that white trash brunch with some dirty, long-haired guy that ate pig's feet."

He closed his eyes, seeing the candlelight and the junk food and the way she looked at him as he struggled with the words. Why did it have to be so hard to just tell her how he felt about her? Their last conversation before the walkers and the fuckers that took her, and his dumb, stupid, awkward ass hadn't so much as told her she was a good singer, much less that he cared about her. And "cared" didn't come close. "I ran all night, Beth. Longer than that. When I saw you gone, I didn't stop running until I came up on a fork in the road and I didn't know which way they took you. Thought I'd lost you for good."

There were fresh tears filling her eyes and she rested her head on his shoulder, letting them fall quietly this time.

"Kept telling myself," he went on, "I ever saw you again, I was gonna finish that conversation."

"I finished it in my head a thousand times," she told him. "At the hospital, on the road, over and over again. It went a thousand different ways every time, but it ended the same."

"How?"

She shrugged, then shook her head. "It's...it's silly. You don't want to hear."

"No, I do. How did it end?"

She took a deep breath. "You hemmed and hawed a bit, mostly, but it always ended with you telling me that you love me." She lifted her head to look him in the eye, searching his gaze. "Is that how it was gonna go?" she asked.

He wrestled with words for a moment, _hemming_ and _hawing_ , and in the end he just nodded. "Yeah," he said, "it was."

They were so close he could feel her breath on his face. He looked from her eyes to her lips and back again, and she put her hand to his cheek. "It's okay, Daryl," she said in that soft, sweet voice. "I always said I love you right back."

He let out a breath and kissed her.

He'd imagined it before, but making love to her that first time was different than he pictured. She was crying again, for one thing, and he was trying not to, running his hands through the short hair again and brushing his thumb over her scar. He didn't know if she was a virgin or not, but he might as well have been, as damn scared as he was. They helped each other along, undressing each other and laying together in her bed. She explored his body while he did the same to hers, learning each other, loving each other, until she wound herself around him and with one long look, giving him all her trust, she took him inside her.

He began to move and she moved with him, rocking and twisting together, and that at least was like everything he imagined. _Better_. It wasn't just in his head anymore. She was right there, loving him as much as he was loving her, and there was no way in hell his imagination could compare with that.

They stayed in each other's arms after and he watched her fall asleep, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. There was a lot of work to do, and they had so much time to make up for, but for now it would have to wait. He was finally taking a breath.


End file.
